Astarion would know that face anywhere. She'd played his victim so well - right up until the moment that his prey had revealed itself as the hunter. Maybe he'd gotten what he'd deserved, left for dead in an alleyway after she'd brought him to bliss, fed him blood that tasted like the gods themselves...

... and then sunk a jagged red dagger between his ribs.

But now, looking at that face in the bright sunlight, with a dagger of his own at her throat, he knows something is different. Wrong. Those eyes, once so sweetly murderous, are dull, fearful, and seem to hold absolutely no recognition, no memory of the things they did to each other that night in Baldur's Gate. If this is an act, it's the best performance Astarion has ever seen, but the scars that slice across her pretty features tell a different tale.